Category Archives: Body Troubles

the family that renovates together…

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As much as I bitch about this wedding, it’s actually forcing a lot things to happen. All good things.

My dad has done a LOT of work on himself and has remained sober. He’s also gotten a lot of help from my mom in regards to personal healing and self-change (she’s a licensed therapist) and they have some oddball new friendship forming. At no threat to my stepdad either, because well, he’s gotten his head out of his ass and he’s ALSO stepped up to the plate. Apparently the three of them sat down and realized that they have a daughter getting married and bringing a new family member to the table. There’s also that whole grandchild situation they’re all banking on.

So anyway, my dad is part of the picture now. A lot. He also living with the Ex-Stepmonster. Yes, that’s right. He moved out of his first wife’s house (my mom) and into his 3rd wife’s house. I don’t care how it happened, but it’s working. When I found out initially I was full of rage. A week later I decided it didn’t matter. She can handle my dad, they are making it work and being friends (which is what they ALWAYS should have been, NEVER married!) and he’s got a nice place to live. I’ve said my piece, told my dad he would never have to choose between us again, and wished him luck with repairing the damage they’d done to each other. What else can I do? I FINALLY have my dad back in my life and he’s sober. I can’t sacrifice that for a decade of bullshit with that woman. He’s made amends with me and that’s what matters. Maybe one day I can get over The Stepmonster Saga entirely, but the pain is still a little too real.

Right, so, my dad lives with his 3rd ex-wife, my stepdad is back to being the man my mom originally married, my mom is this totally gelled out earth mama now, and we’re all getting along fabulously. That brings us to the present.

We may be moving in with my parents, but we’re getting the entire basement. At first Dean and I were going to move in as is. Then my mom and I decided it should be painted. Then cleaned thoroughly. Well last month, record-breaking rain hit our area while we were on vacation and flooded the area. (The tree in the road picture? That’s the intersection by my mom’s house.) We didn’t realize (because it was mostly dried up) but the basement window had flooded and soaked the floor. Thankfully, that is the only damage to the house. The linoleum, which was mega cheap and poorly installed to begin with, was unfurling and coming up right in the middle of the floor.

Now let me paint this picture: me and my soon to be husband, my mom and stepdad, my brother, and my dad all painting the basement as one cohesive unit and laughing our asses off the entire time with football on in the background. While painting as a family (and saying that is still a surreal mindfuck in itself) we decided the linoleum had to go on the entire floor and decided on carpet tiles. It couldn’t be that hard, right?

Flash forward to this week and the floor has become the center of much aggravation. The linoleum ripped out in a swift tug and since she was on a roll, mom went ahead and ripped out the carpet in the other room with the fireplace (what will be our bedroom). Underneath the carpet? TWO layers of even uglier linoleum. For every hurdle, my mom calls my dad and he figures out the next step. Since this is all being done on our behalf, Dean and I have contributed financially. Mom and stepdad do the labor, mom calls dad for advice/estimating, Dean and I provide cash, my brother helps every where he can. It’s all working out very well, but it’s still really fucking surreal.

During all this renovating and family bonding, I’ve been busting my ass to get all of our stuff together for the move and the wedding. Knowing Dean is off his feet 100% (other than bathing briefly and using the bathroom) for a week, I have to get as much done as possible before the surgery so there are a few more things to get done just before that. And somewhere in there I have to do a final clean of the apartment and turn over my keys. Oh so much to do.

Of course I let the stress ruin me and now I’m really out of time because on top of all of this, I got majorly effing sick. About two days after my last post, I succumbed to the illness.

In all honesty, I’ve felt like shit for a month or two now (it all blends together anymore) but brushed it off. Then I started feeling a lot of pain. Cough, cold, sneezing, puking, I don’t take seriously. Pain? Pain I take seriously. So I finally go to see a doctor and surprise surprise I have another UTI. Get the meds, go home… it gets worse. WAY worse in the next few hours. More conversations with doctors and the end result is a kidney infection. A kidney infection due to having an untreated UTI for so long. I don’t know if you’ve ever had a kidney infection but it can be summed in one word: Agony.

I don’t even remember some of it, but I’ve been informed there was a lot of crying and a lot of sitting on the toilet which made me cry some more because it hurt too much to bend over at all to wipe. There were scary fever moments and questioning a trip to the ER, but in the end I managed to break the fever. Just in time to get strep throat! By Saturday morning I wasn’t any better (other than the pain subsiding) so they take one look at me, do a few cultures, and HUZZAH! You’ve got strep, bitch!

Two antibiotics and several days of forced rest later, I’m finally better. And now I’m down to 13 days till moving day and 17 days till wedding day. We’ve got about 30% of the apartment packed and into storage.

I’m never gonna make it.

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a month and a half later…

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We’ve lived together for 2 months now. In those two months a lot of shit has happened. It’s possible that I might be over my desire to “get it all over with now”. Wait, that’s a desire? No, that’s how my life is.

After the longest morning of my life, Dean’s biopsy came back just fine. The minute the surgeon left me in the waiting room, I burst into tears. I think it was out of sheer relief that something good finally happened and that we wouldn’t have to fight yet another battle. Or that I wasn’t facing the possibility of losing the greatest thing to ever happen to me. I admit it, when the word “lymphoma” was uttered, my first thought was “you can’t do this to me. I finally found this amazing man and you’re taking him away from me? Please don’t do this!” and then I got over it and realized that no matter what I’d deal with it. It was the realization that I didn’t have to face anything like that right this minute, that I could finally be happy with someone and share a life with. That’s why I cried in the waiting room. Then I called our moms, reported the good news, and breathed.

Not long after that my dad was out of rehab and moved into a group men’s home. We’ve had a few sharp conversations and there was one that shredded me to the bone. I was ready to write him off forever, but then he and my mom talked a lot and after some more time in AA and another group he likes, my dad started to come around. I haven’t entirely given up on the idea of having a father some time in my life.

We got the sperm test results in the middle of all of that too and after waiting two more weeks for my doctor to review them I discovered that I am COMPLETELY fucking fed up with gynecologists in general. Also realized that insurance sucks. Oh and his results were not optimal. My doc wouldn’t even give us clomid without another test for Dean and I didn’t feel like waiting any more for an answer. She gave us the green light to go to a fertility clinic and that was it. The end of all further conversation with yet another doctor that I felt completely disconnected from.

Dejected I went from hyper “let’s make the appointment NOW” to a break down (shocking!) to “fuck this. We don’t need the stress. Let’s just wait.” The plan now? Well I have this super important wedding of my best friend in Toronto in August that is costing a small fortune for us. Actually it’s not so bad now because Steph is amazing and is letting me bypass the hotel costs and letting me stay at her place the entire week I’m there. It was like an elephant AND a boulder came flying off my chest. We also have a vacation in September thats almost 100% paid for. And my truck is paid off in August as well. We decided that due to the financial stress of it all and fertility clinics not being known for low costs, we’d wait to even make an appointment at the clinic until September. Another boulder removed. Stress is not good for baby making anyway.

However, since I have always been a multiple blog person, I decided to start a blog a few months ago about the whole trying to get knocked up thing, but I’m taking it a bit more lighthearted there than here. If you’re interested, leave a comment with your email address so I can send you the link.

Somewhere in this mix Dean also had a sleep study and the results of that were terrifying. It’s amazing he’s alive. Suffice to say insurance covered a CPAP machine and now my beloved sleeps with a bizarre mask on his face at night. I made fun of him incessantly until he finally started laughing about it too. At least now he’s sleeping through the night and getting his energy back. Slowly.

After all of that, we had to figure out this living together thing. It required making food budgets and sharing all money then distributing said shared money and then figuring out schedules and paying each others bills and saving for things we didn’t want to save for and FUCK! We went from zero to married in 2 months flat! The kinks have been worked out, the fights have been had, the sex life has taken a hit, but all in all everything is working out. We don’t resent each other for any of it. It’s all OUR money even though I make the lion’s share and pay all the household items. When big decisions need to be made we actually TALK to each other. We make plans together about the future, where money is going, and how things are spent. See? It’s like we’re married.

As if all that were not enough, i finally went to see a doctor for a physical and holy shit, she listened to me. It turns out this lack of energy can be attributed to a lack of vitamin D so she ran blood work on that and low and behold, my levels were dangerously low. Then a few other results came back that were NOT good. My blood sugar spiked so now I’m pre-diabetic, my triglycerides went up (but my overall cholesterol score was the exact same number as it was the last 2 years), and then there was the vitamin D thing. Basically I’m falling apart. So I joined a gym. My coworker and her husband are “training” me and so far so good. I had already been changing the way Dean and I eat so that part was easy, but the working out no less than 3 times a week? Holy shit that’s hard. If I didn’t have my workout buddies, this would be near impossible. Saturday I go in for my free training session where they make up a workout based on me and my needs. So that will be interesting.

And then there’s work… well thats just a ball of stress right now. I still love my coworkers and still love my job, it’s just really stressful right now. That’s all there is to say about that.

So between work, working out, doctor visits, results, and figuring out how to live together it’s been a hell of a journey. Now let’s see how long it takes me to post again.

body update

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In the merry-go-round of diagnostics, I have yet another answer about PCOS and yet another doctor for my girlie bits.

I missed another period when I missed the progesterone and it left me feeling hopeless for a minute thinking my body was totally fucked. I found a new doctor and restored my faith.

I won’t rehash the doctor stories. You all know me and know the history of horrible experiences. After the miscarriage (back in the Chet days) I went back to my old practice and I started out with a tiny little grey-haired women who is maybe 120 pounds soaking wet that I called Dr. Munchkin. The first visit with her was a massive relief from the hell I went through with Dr. Icy. But then Dr. Munchkin kinda tuned out, tried to blame everything on my weight despite test results, and changed my diagnosis 3 times in 3 visits. When I complained to her about how awful I felt on metformin and how I wasn’t losing weight, she simply told me to change to 1200 calorie diet. Umm… fuck you.

Suffice to say I was miserable, felt like I had a doctor that didn’t care, and yet all I want from this is a baby! I cracked one day under the pressure and cried to Dean about Dr. Munchkin and Dr. Awesome. You know that man went out of his way to hunt down Dr. Awesome? He looked online and then called office after office. He never found her, but his effort alone inspired me to call my practice back and ask for a new doctor. I was transferred to the office manager. Apparently they take complaints seriously and I should have done this years ago with the cervix ninja. The office manager recommended a different doctor and I had my first appointment with her last week.

And Dean went with me.

I went with the intention of getting off of metformin but ended up in a fertility consult with an actual plan of action! I’m calling her Dr. Real because of how she was with me – REAL! She listened, read my chart, and said “you have SOME symptoms of PCOS, but not enough for me to say its definite so lets work around it right now” and I decided right then and there I don’t care if I have it or not. We’ll make this work. Having Dean there showed her that I have a supportive partner and it didn’t seem to matter that we’re not married. She was realistic about my weight, gave me a goal (10% of my weight) and asked me what I was doing currently. Dr. Real also approved of my current course (5-6 smaller meals a day, focus on whole foods not calories, and try to “eat the rainbow” every day) because it’s working. I’ve lost 6 pounds!

She also told Dean outright she wouldn’t put me through anything else until he got tested. His results would determine the next course of action which is either another med or another clinic. (Let’s hope for clean healthy sperm and going on that med, eh?) He was very involved and asked some questions. He finally heard everything I needed him to hear and now we’re on the exact same page.

Dr. Real is keeping me on the Metformin and progesterone with new instructions on how to take them and a week later, I have FINALLY stopped getting sick all the time. Woohoo!!!!! Now I’m motivated to keep taking them! So now the next step is an ultrasound for me to check out my uterus and make sure it’s still healthy and a sperm analysis for Dean. Results will determine the next step, but I have a good doctor again and a plan and that’s a great stepping off point. Oh, and I got a period finally so thats a positive sign!

32 hours

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See previous entry. This pretty much begins where that one left off and I’m too tired to function
  • Woke up alone on a Monday which has become foreign to me in the last 8 months
  • Work work work
  • Phone call form the beloved updating me on the events to come in regards to kidneys
  • Work some more
  • Another phone call. What should have been a quick procedure, changed course throughout the day
  • I heard the words “blockage, infection, hospital” and left work 2 hours early
  • I spent 102 minutes in traffic
  • When I got to the hospital, I spent another 32 minutes trying to find Dean because almost everyone who works there is missing a crucial amount of brain cells
  • Incompetent people should have their mouths sewn shut
  • An angel named Mimi saved the day by finding him and then taking me to him
  • I hate at least 3 Maryland hospitals now
  • I cried the minute I saw him
  • The color in his face returned about 5 minutes after I showed up
  • His mom and I got to know each other, but bonded one-on-one in the OR waiting area
  • He came out of anesthesia like nothing had happened
  • He was the butt of many jokes for the nurse, his mom, and me
  • Discharged
  • He rode back with me while his mom got dinner for all of us
  • We all met up at their house, had dinner, and watched recorded TV together very very late at night
  • She gave me a really warm, nice hug when I said goodnight and I got choked up
  • I crawled into bed with my Boo, kissed his forehead, and rubbed his back till he fell asleep
  • I woke up at 5:30am, said goodbye, and hit the road
  • Showered, got dressed, headed to GYN office
  • Assaulted by 5 foot tall, buck ten soaking wet doctor wielding a speculum
  • Veins assaulted by rough and tumble lab tech who managed to bruise my ridiculously vibrant and easy to find veins
  • Cried in the car for no reason
  • Ate bacon for the first time in 4 years figuring that medication already tears me up, so lets try pork!
  • Threw up again. Failure of previous thought.
  • Work work work
  • Work some more
  • Came home to dog acting a fool
  • Contemplated the demise of the dog
  • Period arrived which explained the uncontrollable weeping in the car earlier
  • Chicken pot pie followed by caramel ice cream for dinner comfort
  • Contemplated dog’s demise again
  • Decided it was time for bed

Nighty night.

stoned

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PMS is evil. It helped lead to my first moments of doubt with Dean and our future. That lead to some big thinking and a new plan of action.

I foolishly told him I wanted to talk to him ahead of time thinking he’d appreciate the heads up, but forgot he has woman-like tendencies once in a while and that sent his head spinning. Oops. Oh well. It gave me the time I needed to pull it all together. I stood my ground and refused to give in to his reaction so we shelved it till we were face to face the next day which was Saturday.

I call Dean every morning to wake him up. I call once and then call 30 minutes later to shove him out of bed from afar. I wake up 45 minutes later myself. I do the same thing Saturday mornings and this Saturday was no exception. He told me he’d been up all night with stomach cramps. I won’t lie, I thought this was a guilt trip. My day flew by and next thing I know, he’s walking in the door at 4:30. He looked pale and exhausted so I gave him some fresh baked cookies, gave him a pedicure (yeah I spoil him, but I like doing it), rubbed his feet, and sent him off for a nap. He told me his stomach had been hurting him all day again and a nap was a good idea. When he woke up, we went to dinner and planned on seeing a movie after that.

I had this feeling something was wrong so I decided I better have the talk with him. I said what I needed to say, apologized for a few things, told him we can’t fight over the phone anymore (but if he insists, we can do it in person) and reminded him of why we love each other and what our goal is. He held my hand at that point and I said “in the end, it’s all about that baby we both want. We need to be stable and happy and be as good to each other as we can. I want to give that kid the best shot at life it can have and that starts with us.” And just like that, the tension was gone, agreements were made, and everything felt better.

I couldn’t have timed it better and I’m glad I didn’t wait any further because about an hour into the movie, Dean started feeling bad again. I have no idea where we left off because at one point he whispered to me from the side of the theater and I knew it was go time. Next thing I know, he’s in agonizing pain and I’m driving his car like a bat out of hell to the only hospital I know the location of 16 miles away. I’m praying to every deity I can to get me to the hospital without getting pulled over. Someone was listening because I flew right past one cop and he didn’t even flinch.

One IV drip, some kick ass pain killers, an x-ray some other kind of scan, and 4 hours later, it turned out that Dean had a really big kidney stone and it was currently stuck near his pelvic bone. We were sent home about 3am with some instructions, prescriptions, and instructions to take a lot of ibuprofen if the other pain meds wore off and the pain came back before I could get to a pharmacy. The same deity’s that watched over us before were still on duty because I barely avoided hitting 2 deer and one fox about a mile from the house. When we got home, he was feeling GREAT! So great that he took the dog out while I was peeing. Scared the hell out of me.

Eventually I got him back to bed and made him sleep. Then I passed out. I woke up 4 hours later to go to the pharmacy. I looked like hell, but the pharmacists didn’t even question it. They assumed I was his wife… his very tired and ragged wife who just wanted to go back to bed. Instead of sleeping, I spent the entire day taking care of him. After I got him to finally get in the shower and feel better, he went home. He has an appointment tomorrow back near his house and I have to finish up the monthly billing.

But everything feels different now. It kinda feels like a kidney stone made everything better.

Something about the vulnerability of being in the hospital, being in pain, having someone see you when you’re completely down, that same person holding the IV bag up in one hand and the pee cup in the other… well I guess that kind of makes you forget the bullshit, value the one you love, and let go of the little shit.

little egg

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If I blogged more often, I wouldn’t constantly feel like I’m catching up. The last few weeks in a nutshell: road trip to Boston area with Dean for a wedding, 3 weeks of arguing with Dean and near ending of relationship, removed my head from my ass after shocking realization about myself, honeymoon status restored with the male, hanging out with several couples that are either his friends or mine, and a diagnosis on the reproductive system. Let’s focus on that last one.

After a year and a half of back and forth, two doctors, and various tests, it turns out that I do have PCOS.

At this point I don’t think I can even be upset by it. I do, I don’t, I do, I don’t. All I’ve concluded over the last year and a half is that PCOS is a diagnosis tossed out pretty regularly. It’s the ADD of fertility. I’ve also discovered there is no sure fire test that says point blank “hey you’ve got fucked up ovaries!” Whatever. Maybe because I already went through the initial shock of it last summer, I didn’t flip out this time. Maybe I’m in denial thinking they’ll tell me they’re wrong. I have other symptoms and quite frankly it explains a lot of other things. I guess just having an answer at this point is what’s keeping me from losing my mind so I’ve taken a leap of faith and I’ve decided to just accept it and deal with it.

I say all that now, but that paragraph above took an entire week to accept and write.

I am going to great lengths to stay as positive about this as possible. I can’t change it, there isn’t a cure, and I’m stuck with it. It’s treatable though and I have a good doctor willing to work with me as I am. She thinks it’s great that I’ve decided to be proactive about this and start now rather than wait any further and she’s optimistic.

I don’t have to make huge changes in my life for her to treat me right now either. I have to stay on my current progesterone dosage and now add metformin to the mix. Plus side of that is it has been known to aid in weight loss for some women. Downside is apparently a very urgent need to spend quality time with the porcelain gods and as I’ve learned over the week it also comes with random bouts of very violent stomach cramps and gas pressure. I’ll take the pain over the squirts though. I’ve been told this is totally normal and will be over in a few weeks once my body fully adjusts to it. Oh yay.

Dean has been phenomenal. Encouraging and supportive. This is the way it should be though. If you decide to have a baby with someone and you actively pursue it, you need to be supportive of each other and be willing to sit through the rough moments. He is there for everything, listens to my rants, worries when I double over with stomach pain, makes me feel better, and has made some big commitments that I consider a fair compromise for now. He still hasn’t weighed in either way on his decision about moving in, but the current situation is livable and I accept it. For now.

Meanwhile, I’ve stopped worrying about who knows and who he tells. He’s excited about it and wants to be a father so why should I hinder that? The thing I made him promise was that once I actually get pregnant, he’s not supposed to tell ANYONE until I get to a certain point. He agreed and I’m good with that. The irony? I don’t want anyone in my family knowing anything. No one outside my mom and stepdad. Friends know but I’m closer to my friends than I am to my family. I don’t even talk to most of my family.

I never thought I’d be one of those women that has to chart her ovulation, take her temperature, and go on medications to try and have a baby, but at least I have those options. I also have a good man to go through it all with me and that’s really all you can ask for.

Now I just need an egg to drop into my uterus!

rocky road

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Once upon a time, I made a vow to not ever blog when I was hormonal, in the middle of a fight, or when drunk. So far I’ve managed to obey this rule this year, but I won’t lie… it’s been a little rocky with Dean as of late.

I had this really great vacation, but then I came home sick and was thrown on double antibiotics for sinusitis and a UTI. Well as every woman knows, antibiotics cause other problems and double antibiotics seem to make it even worse. Up until this year, I had only ever experienced one very mild yeast infection. This year? Two from hell.

My point? I was sick as fuck, had a UTI on top of it, and then the cure for both of these caused a yeast infection. If you didn’t already guess it, when the vagina is unhappy the woman who owns it ends up miserable as well.

But is that really the issue? No, not even close. It’s just making me miserable on top of my over-thinking on top of decision making on top of work on top of stress on top of hormonal issues. Essentially, I’ve been a miserable cuntbag and I’ve had a hard time keeping it in check with Dean. In fact, a week after we got back from the beach, we had a fight and ended up staying apart from each other. It was the first time since we started dating that we were apart for such a long time and it was rough. We seem to only ever fight over the phone too and those fights are truly awful. He also loves to fight and hates to lose so he’ll get downright evil if he has to just to win. The problem with that? Some of the shit he says implants in my brain and germinates into full blown spiraling and changes my entire point of view. let’s just say he learned the hard way that he can’t throw a bullshit sentence out to me just to hurt me or try to win, because ultimately it bites him in the ass.

Oh, but all this has a further point…

Dean and I have had some deep thoughts and we’ve decided we want to start a family and get married. The problem with that is the logistics of it all aren’t sinking in and now it’s come to the point where big decisions need to be made before any progress can be made. I’ve argued my case and put my foot down on a few points. I’ve compromised on others. Now the ball is in his court to make a choice and decide the current path of the future. It’s a lot for him to take in and I understand this, but I’m very impatient.

I’m also a walking bag of hormones and my menstrual cycle has been completely blown away two months in a row due to 3 new women starting work in my office in the last 45 days. Clearly I’m NOT the alpha female in this group and working in a trailer as the only woman for 9 months then suddenly having 3 other cycles in there is wreaking havoc on my body. Dean constantly hopes my fucked up periods will result in pregnancy which is actually quite nice to hear and feel. It’s just not been the result yet.

Lately the coping method for all of this has been to drown in reading and I chose to start reading the Harry Potter books for the first time. What a perfect mental vacation!

So there you have it… there’s a LOT on my mind, I’ve been having a hell of a time catching back up at work, and things were a little dicey there with my mate. It seems to have all sorted itself out now though and life has resumed it’s normal course. Now I just need to catch up on blogs, post some beach pictures, and finish the Harry Potter books!

Side note: discovered this past weekend that I am almost as happy with reading in bed together for hours on end as I am with hot passionate make up sex. The combination of the two things in one day? Ecstasy.

froggy throat

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It wasn’t a cold I was fighting off before my vacation… it was the explosion of a UTI. I’m some sort of freak of nature in that I get these horrific UTIs but I lack the burning pee sensation so it’s never obvious. Well this is the second it’s happened where I’m exhausted, fatigued, sick all the time, randomly fevery, full of back pain, etc. for weeks and weeks on end. The first one went on 2 months, this one went on about 6 weeks. I finally have a note in my chart to check for UTI’s first.

So being all stressed out for a few weeks, having a UTI ready to explode into hell, and being in a house that’s hit its expiration level left me open to getting a sore throat from Dean. That exploded into what I thought was strep but now don’t know for sure if it is. I had white patches but they’re gone and now the doc thinks it’s sinusitis. Still waiting on the damn throat culture, but she gave me something that will treat sinusitis AND strep so I’m covered. Finally.

Okay so the point of this? I came home from the beach REALLY fucking sick and I’m still miserable.

But the vacation was really really awesome and I have much to tell… and I will soon. With pictures!

the wheels on the truck go round and round

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Oy vey. The last 2 weeks have been a blur. Let’s see if I remember any of it…

On the 4th of July before heading to a delightful picnic with my mom, one of my tires got a hole in it. Actually, this was a hole that I got on the jobsite last summer and it was plugged. The plug had finally failed almost a year later. It was at this point I began to learn how valuable it is to date a man who is the assistant manager of a tire and auto parts shop/garage. Not only did he change my tire at lightning speed, but by the next day he had me applied for a line of credit through the franchise and POOF! New tires were ordered. I knew I needed new tires to pass safety anyway so this was not a surprise cost. Thank God for that line of credit though because $700 is a lot to digest… and those aren’t even the priciest ones!

The following weekend I went to visit my grandpa for breakfast and then headed to Dean’s shop to get the tires put on my truck. I got to watch him work and meet all the boys. I made it a point to read and keep to myself so as not to distract him and I did such a great job getting lost in a magazine that I was totally oblivious to all that was going on. Putting new tires on The Beast revealed that I needed new rear struts and new front ball joints. Somehow I missed all of this and Dean ordered (and paid for) the parts while I was reading. I’m not going to publicly post details because I don’t know the consequences of that, but suffice to say, he hooked me up and saved me the trauma of having to trade in my truck for a newer one, because quite frankly if I hadn’t had the help, I would have had to do that. But now I’m several hundred dollars in debt to him. I wasn’t initially comfortable with this, but I’m getting there.

By the end of the day though, it still needed ball joints so another appointment was set for two weeks later. Why not the next week? Because we had a wedding to go to!

I went from being less comfortable with the free flow of “I love you” to being really comfortable with it. It all became apparently clear when we went to Dean’s best friend’s wedding. Actually it started the day before when I got a call of “so ummm, what should I get for a wedding gift?” Are you fucking kidding me? It’s the DAY BEFORE the wedding! After eventually establishing that there was in fact a registry, being told he wanted to bring the gift not have it shipped, and being given my budget, I some how managed to pull an entire gift set. It required calling 5 stores, putting things on hold at more than one store, and several trips, but I did it. At this point I realized just how much I love that man because I wouldn’t have done any of that if I wasn’t.

The next day was the wedding.

I love Dean, I really do, but the man has got to work on his communication with me about times, dates, plans, etc. Because what should have been a relaxing morning of getting my hair and nails done turned into a rushed, aggravating whirlwind of stress to get dressed and flee to the wedding. I forget how new this relationship is until stuff like that happens, but the beauty part is that we’re both so easy going that we bend and flex and adjust our neurosis for the greater good. Lessons were learned and new rules were established.

My mom had warned me the day before that something (positive) would happen with Dean at the wedding and to pay attention to him. I never doubt my mother. After all these years of being her child and witnessing her truly psychic ability, I pretty much take everything she says for face value. Sure as shit, she was right again. He may have been drunk, but he was a ball of love and was talking marriage. This carried through to sobriety to the point that the next day we were talking lists, locations, dates, etc. Unfuckingbelievable. Mom’s response to this (via text) “I told you that wedding would shift something in his cranium. Mazel tov, babe.”

All in all, the wedding weekend was really quite extraordinary and I managed to fall even farther in love with Dean. I suspect that as time goes on, I’ll continue to fall deeper and deeper. It’s only been a few months, but I cannot even fathom my life without him at this point.

Anyway, as I rolled back into my weekly flow (which, let’s face it, sucks since I’m not with him until the weekends) I started to come down with something. It was also billing week and my period was either late or I was experiencing neverending PMS. Either way, the combination of having hormonal insanity, throwing up like crazy, the dog being sick, being ridiculously stressed at work, having more issues with the truck, and then getting a yeast infection on top of it lead to me being quite salty and a total airhead. Yup, it lead to an argument with Dean on the phone one late night. That alone catapulted the contents of my stomach up and out again and I was miserable. He woke up and text messaged me like nothing happened. WTF? But there’s that learning curve again. We talked it out when we both got home and yet again, new rules established and lessons learned.

By Friday I couldn’t take it anymore so I went and got an over the counter yeast infection cure. Why is this relevant? Because most of my life I’ve been blessed to not experience infections below the belt. This was quite literally my first time trying the OTC remedy. I’ve gotten the pill variety from the doctor the other two times because they just happened to show yeast on a culture and “oh hey, take this as a precaution”. I figured this was easy, do it yourself, and cheaper than a copay so fuck it, I’ll just do OTC. Note to self: 1 day cure will eventually feel like fire. It will work like a charm, but it will burn like a motherfucker.

Hey look! Learning curve! I took something to knock me the fuck out and sleep so I didn’t feel it anymore. Saturday I was pretty much cured, but I had to have the final adjustment to The Beast and get the ball joints. Sitting in a warm waiting room most of the day does not bode well for the day after a yeast infection, let me tell you!

I had taken The Beast to the local shop by me earlier in the week to see if it would fail Virginia standards for anything else, but nope! It only failed for the ball joints and that was a known issue. Dean ordered, paid, they arrived and I went in. Another Saturday with my mate and getting the truck repaired only to reveal yet another problem. The ball joints didn’t fit in the control arms properly. YAY! Temporary fixes were put in place to last till Tuesday when I could get back to the shop for their extended hours day.

I couldn’t tell you how Saturday concluded if my life depended on it. At this point I was so miserable from the week before and so exhausted that you could lie to me and tell me I danced naked in a fountain in public for coins. I know we eventually ate something and eventually went to sleep.

Sunday I woke up refreshed, energized, feeling great, horny, and had a working vagina again. YAY! I will spare the details, but let’s just say Dean and I have a VERY healthy, happy, fun, and exhilarating sex life. I am a VERY happy woman. Nuff said. All was going well and we headed to a movie in my car only to get 3 blocks down the road, go over a speed hump, and KAPOW! Big boom noise and sudden shift in steering. I thought my brand new tire had ruptured but oh no! The ball joint slipped out and broke the boot. Fucking dandy. The temporary fix didn’t hold and all I could think was thank God this did not happen on the beltway! At this point though, I’m still fragile from a solid week of hell despite my great mood in the morning, and I started to fall apart.

Dean absolutely would not let me fall apart or become negative and I definitely would have been falling apart without him. How the fuck did I deal with ANYTHING before? I mean I’ve gone through hell and back and come out with my head held high, but it feels like that was a dream right now. I’m allowing myself to rely on him for comfort and support and while this is awesome, it also unnerves me. I don’t want to lose myself, you know? Meh. Blog entry for another time.

We went to the movie and missed the storm of a century. Apparently while we were getting our minds altered by Inception (it was good, not amazing though) this massive storm ripped through the region and destroyed a lot. We were totally oblivious to the entire event until we got home to a house with no power.

Well it’s summer, it’s been above average heat since June and utterly miserable, and there isn’t much to do on a Sunday evening since everything either closes early or was without power. We decided the perfect solution to this was to take my truck to the shop (it was cautiously drive-able) since the roads were pretty empty and then come back and play cards. Dean decided to teach me how to play gin while we were in our underwear in the middle of the dark living room dimly lit by candlelight.

He was perfectly content being entertained by cards, talking, and just being together. That right there is why I love him. Being there with nothing to do brought out some conversational topics neither of us loved, but needed to express. I have fears and so does he, but there’s also a lot of love and much of that was also expressed. If anything, the past two weeks have shown me just how utterly blessed to have found this amazing man. I could not have asked for a more perfect man for me. I’ve been given a gift and I am going to do what it takes to hold onto this gift. I’d like to think he feels the same way because he does show it and he actually emotes. It’s refreshing to say the least.

I can honestly say that I’m looking forward to learning, evolving, and growing old with him and that is a truly wonderful feeling. Especially if there are more candlelight underwear card games in the future!

I ♥ You, bloggie

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I really love this little ♥/♣/♦-point style of posting. So much cuter than straight up bullet-points.

♥ In an effort to try and break free from the old and move on into the new, I changed my twitter account name last night. Okay, so really I had two all along. I kept one for bitching about the ex and then my main one. However, I didn’t want to lose my old name since it’s such a part of me so I basically just switched the usernames on the accounts. I know, very confusing. I’m now hexypea on twitter. I even added a widget to the blog over there →

♣ I wish I spoke dog more fluently. I have no idea how to make Nola happy some times and it frustrates me. I swear, kids might be easier than dogs. At least with human children they can speak, tell you what they want, can be left alone at a certain age, and at some point they move out. People who have children that have also met my dog have told me numerous times that yes, I’m ready for children. We shall see.

♦ My body is playing this fun little game with me now where I pretty much need to find a bathroom (urgently) within 20-120 minutes of completing a meal. It’s making me not want to eat much anymore. The only real perk of this: weight loss. But ultimately, all that is okay because…

♥ …I’m spending more money on gas than I am on food right now. I never thought I’d be so gung-ho to be the one to travel to the man, especially one who doesn’t live alone, but here I am jetting across the highway to hell beltway every chance I get.

♣ I’m starting to become bitter about my relationship with Chet. I don’t like mentioning him. I don’t even like saying his name anymore. I am grateful for the experience with him and could not have learned half the shit I did without him, but at the same time I am being treated so differently by Dean that I can’t help but see the glaringly obvious differences. I’m gonna have to start calling Chet “the ex” now I think.

♦ I don’t get along with caffeine anymore. Turns out this is the cause of all my insane breaking out. I get these deep down painful “please kill me” Mt. Vesuvius sized zits whenever I have more than a normal dose of caffeine. And forget coffee – that’s almost an instant killer. My lack of imbibing caffeine routinely is probably why one can of Diet Coke will keep me up well past my bedtime.

♥ Clearly I wore the wrong dress today because the skin just under my armpits is raw and red. And owie. Mayhaps I should lose the bra? (EDIT: bra gone!)

♣ My neighbors directly below me are always cooking delicious exotic foods. I don’t think they like AC because their screen door is always open, but this works in my favor because I am frequently intoxicated by delicious aromas whenever I walk out onto the balcony. Like right now, for instance, I’m writing this post on my wee outdoor table and i can smell something delightful being prepared.

♦ Dean is completely full of win. The other day I expressed my fierce desire for fresh ink and he said he’d draw on me with an ink pen when he saw me next. I’m going to hold him to this. Then tonight I asked him if he wanted to see one of the cutest things in the world and before I could send a link he said “yes, but I won’t see you till Saturday”. This little part of me thats completely girlie? Yeah it melted a little. (Seriously though, how cute is this little guy??? Squee indeed.)

♥ It is utterly beautiful outside right now. If every summer day had an evening as wonderful as this with perfect temps, a light breeze, and zero humidity, I’d like summer so much more. Being able to sit outside and enjoy a luxury like typing an entry on my laptop is a gift. You know, until my battery screams “Danger Will Robinson! Danger Will Robinson!” No really, it does that. Some times. Okay, not at all, but it should.

♣ I banked two massages through Massage Envy in order to use them for a hot stone massage and I am having that on Saturday. I’ve never done that before so this will be interesting experience. This far, my experience at M.E. has resulted in a male masseuse I made blush that had no idea what “not that hard” meant and then a woman who was deathly afraid of massaging the tushy and the feet. Failure times two. Let’s hope the next one knows what they are doing or I am gonna quit my membership.

♦ I think I need to go to the beach this weekend.